A Family Matter
by Drea Jackman
Summary: The day Claire discovered her grandmother’s plan to step up her security was not a happy one. For You Series, scene 1.


**Title:** A Family Matter  
**Author:** Drea Jackman  
**Rating:** PG  
**Characters/Pairings:** Sylar/Claire  
**Summary:** The day Claire discovered her grandmother's plan to step up her security was not a happy one.

**Series:** For You Drabbles  
**Spoilers:** Early Vol 3.  
**Word Count:** 1,592

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Heroes or any of the characters involved in this story. It's all just a bit of non-profit fun.  
**Notes:** The first in a series of prequel style drabbles building up to another fic I wrote called For You. And yes, I'm calling them drabbles, though originally I did aim for a target of 1K words in each … I seem to have gone over slightly so the 1K word limit is loose to say the least.

'I trust that we can depend upon you in this matter, Gabriel?'

Angela Petrelli's words were expectant, but not completely uncaring when directed at the man she'd come to pin all her motherly hopes upon; the man who, despite all his past indiscretions, particularly involving her granddaughter, she had come to call son.

'Of course,' he replied obediently without hesitation.

'Excellent.' Her lips pressed together in a tight smile, evidently pleased with his response. Reaching down, Angela pushed the button on her office intercom, opening a line to the outer office desk. 'We're ready,' she said simply and released the button.

Sylar stood patiently, eyes focused on the silver fountain pen on his mother's desk and waited to be dismissed. The request never came.

When Claire stepped into the room the atmosphere noticeably shifted, becoming thick and heavy. Sylar tensed, feeling her eyes burning into the back of his head and immediately knew who had entered. Without turning, he remained still and silently contemplated whether or not those angry blue-green eyes were fixed on the single site of his vulnerability. Knowing Claire, she'd already have scoped out the object with which to bring an end to him.

'What's _he_ doing here?' she asked in a low tone that clearly betrayed her simmering temper.

'Don't be so dramatic dear,' Angela was not impressed. 'Close the door behind you.'

Claire hesitated briefly, door handle held in a tight fist as she seemed to weigh up her options. In the end, her respect for her grandmother won out. Closing the door behind her, she kept a wary distance between herself and the man she'd come to call her monster. She approached Angela as requested and thumped her backpack down into the empty chair across from the older woman's desk.

'Why am I here?' Claire asked, rephrasing her question.

Angela turned and took a few slow steps to walk behind her desk as she began to explain.

'You know as well as I do, Claire, that our current situation has grown a lot less secure than it once was,' she appeared to choose her words carefully. Turning around her focus remained on the young woman before her. 'Your father received some disturbing information which places you at the centre of Arthur's future plans for Pinehearst.'

Sylar turned to stare at his mother, expression faintly hinting at concern. This was news to him too.

Claire however, remained calm. 'What do you mean?'

'We don't have all the intelligence as yet, dear,' she replied, her tone becoming soothing. 'Rest assured your father is working hard to find out,' she paused and her expression softened seeing the look in her grandchild's eyes, 'both of them are.'

Claire was thoughtful for a moment before letting out a low sigh. She refused to turn and face the killer sharing her air space, but she allowed her eyes to glance sideways and narrow in his direction as she spoke.

'That doesn't explain why he's here,' she seethed.

Sylar bit back the desire to repeat the explanation he had tried to offer the day he'd shared her pain in the Canfield house. Alas, his body betrayed him where at least his tongue did not. At her direct reference, he turned to face her forgetting himself for a moment. Warring words in his head fell silent in the wake of her reaction to recoil away from him.

'You're family, Claire,' Angela emphasised. 'All of us that care about you, we're here to devote the full resources of this company … of this family, to your safety. Gabriel is a part of that.'

The sentiment pulled somewhere deep inside him; a feeling of belonging, of being important just as he was. The feeling was not mutual, and the very reference of extending 'family' toward him of all people broke the last shred of restraint holding back her fury.

'He's NOT my family,' she growled and turned to fix angry eyes upon him. 'You all know what he's done; what he did to me! He's a monster!'

'Claire, please,' Sylar glanced in Angela's direction, aware that anything revealed here would be on full display for her. Turning back to Claire he managed to keep his reaction measured, even if the act did expose his true desire to win her forgiveness. He took a step toward her, not caring for his demeanour at that moment. 'I want to protect you,' rang out in his head, but the words that left his lips were altered just enough to maintain his veil. 'We just want to keep you safe.'

'Like their good little boy, is that it?' Claire sneered. Despite herself, she laughed genuinely at the ridiculous nature of the situation. 'Please.'

'I'm sorry,' he said, lowering his eyes to avoid hers. He could already tell by her tone that she wasn't finished, but he wouldn't let himself be bated into anything. Even if he would have at any other time and place, he couldn't afford to in front of his mother now.

'They're using you, you do realise that don't you?'

He'd genuinely reached out, even if only for a brief moment, it was weak. She knew just how to take advantage of that. He held his shamed stance until he realised she was moving toward him; slow, angry steps directing year's worth of hate directly at him.

'You hunted me down like I was your prey,' she spat, taking another step. 'You hurt the people I love.' Another step closer, eyes blazing. 'You _raped_ me of my ability, took what was mine and made it your own,' her voice grew quiet, 'and now I'm supposed to accept this … accept you?'

Sylar had never seen her so enraged, nor expected her to confront him this way; at least, not yet. He couldn't hide the look of horror emanating from his dark eyes as they looked down on her sadly. '_Raped_,' the word felt too strong, too offensive. And yet he knew she was right.

'You'll never hate me as much as I hate myself, Claire,' he offered, trying to reach her again. His hand was suddenly close to her shoulder, a gesture that took even him by surprise, but he wouldn't touch her. 'Not for what I did to you.'

'Gabriel Gray,' she began, raising her glare to push him back, 'the latest weapon in the Petrelli arsenal.'

'Claire, that's enough!' Angela finally interjected sternly. She knew there would be plenty of pent up rage and airing of grievances to come in time, but right now there were more important matters to attend to.

Neither of them moved. Claire stared him down a few more seconds, waiting until his eyes dropped from hers in defeat before she turned to her grandmother. Her expression softened as she realised that the will of Angela Petrelli would not be broken by one childish outburst, no matter who it came from. Angry at her own defeat, she turned back toward Sylar and absently noted that he now stood between her and her backpack. All she wanted to do was run; every nerve in her body screamed for it.

'If you come near me again, I swear to God,' she breathed, 'I'll kill you myself!'

With that, Claire slammed both her fists upward into Sylar's chest; a move for which he attempted no defence. It sent him staggering backward until his legs caught the chair behind him, preventing his fall. Stilling himself with an unsteady hand, Sylar slowly brought his eyes up to watch her storm out, slamming the door on her way.

There was a brief period of silence where he was allowed to contemplate his own shame. Without moving to stand, he remained perched against the back of the chair as Angela moved around the desk to stand before him.

'Well,' she said airily breaking the silence, 'that went better than expected.'

Sylar didn't bother to note her attempt at humour. Seeing this, Angela changed her approach.

'She'll come around, Gabriel. Just give her time; you have a great deal to make right with her.'

'How can you be so sure?' His words were sullen and defeated. Long fingers uncurled from the back of the chair to slip downward; grazing the fabric of the backpack she had left behind in her hurry to escape him. Then a tiny glimmer awoke in him; his mother had shared insight like this only once before. 'Did you have another dream?'

'No, my dear boy,' Angela said offering him a sure smile. 'She's a young woman.'

Bewildered and unsure of what to make of the older woman's advice, Sylar remained silent and thoughtful. It wasn't until her eyes settled upon the bag now held in his right hand that he moved to stand up straight again.

'I think it would be best if I see that returned myself, don't you agree?' Her words were gentle, but always maintained the motherly tone with which all Petrelli sons felt obliged to obey.

Without hesitation, Sylar stepped forward and handed the backpack to her. Evidently finished for the afternoon, he passed her keeping his gaze low and headed for the door. Hand clasped around the handle, he paused without looking back. Offering four syllables he had rarely felt compelled to utter in his life, Sylar punctuated the gesture by closing the door gently behind him.

'Thank you, mother.'


End file.
